A Novel in 300 parts, give or take. Jasfoup the demon uncovers a zombie problem in Laverstone. What do you do when RentoKill refuse to get involved? Dust off your saber, that's what.

Friday, October 3, 2008

Another Call to Make

I dropped my cigar I was so surprised. “Ebul?” I said. “He should be in a desert somewhere, not buried under English soil.”

Tim sniffed and began to pick his nose. “Why?” he said. “I take it you know him.”

“In the past and in the future,” I said. “He can’t possibly be here. It must be a divergent timeline.”

“There’s no such thing,” said Tim. “All that parallel universe guff about every choice you make makes another reality? Don’t get me started. That would be six trillion universes created every day.” He inspected a bogey before returning it to his nostril. “There’s only one universe and this is it, laddo.”

I scowled. I’d lived half a century for every one of his years and he had the nerve to call me laddo? I decided to ignore Ebul. No doubt the world would arrange for him to be where I meet him in thirty years or so. “How much is this building worth?” I asked. “How much would the council sell it for?”

“Prime location in the centre of town?” said Tim. “Thirty grand, minimum.”

I all but clapped my hands with glee. “You should see its value in my time,” I said. “Thirty is a bargain. I’ll offer fifty.”

Tim whistled. “Where are you going to get fifty Gs?” he said.

“I have my sources.” I clicked my fingers and the bushy-faces Devious arrived, redolent with the scent of jasmine and dogwood and marijuana. “What now?” he said. “I’m in the middle of sabotaging a Pink Floyd concert. It’s bad enough putting up with the hippies let alone being dragged away in lieu of a contract I haven’t even signed yet.”